


Synchronicity

by Master_of_the_Rebels



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Dancing, Daydreaming, Jason has so many reasons to be embarassed, M/M, Martial Arts, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_of_the_Rebels/pseuds/Master_of_the_Rebels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason's been back with the family for a few months now, but there's still tension between him and a certain red bird. He's about to find out just what that tension is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synchronicity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladelle/gifts).



> Story written around Valentine's Day, for the lovely Ladelle. <3

The wash of cool, musky air over his face was a breath of familiarity as Jason slid open the hidden entry leading into the cave.  Walking quietly down the steps, the door clicking lightly shut behind him, the redhead mused, not for the first time, over how he’d managed to go so long without this scent, and how it brought him home in a way no other place ever had.  It was going on a few months now since he’d “returned to the nest,” so to speak, and while he was adjusting to the old routine with relative ease, he still had his reservations sometimes.

Dick and he got along well enough, falling back into the memorable mock and tease relationship they’d had going before the clown whack job had done a number on Jason with a crowbar.  And conversations with Bruce were stilted at best, but gradually improving.  At least he wasn’t being accused of insanity or immoral actions at every turn anymore.  It was…nice, for lack of a better term, to be able to re-bond with the man who was more or less responsible for the shaping of his entire life.  He’d missed Bruce more than words could describe, or that Jason would ever admit, even to himself.

Steph, well, once she’d discovered he was equal opportunity where potential partners were concerned—and believe him, she discovered that all on her own, it was not some common knowledge that he spread around or flaunted—he’d somehow become her go-to gay friend, despite not actually being gay.  It suited him fine though; she was surprisingly entertaining company, and hey, the lady looked hot in the new Batgirl costume, why would he complain?  As for Damian, the demon spawn was just that: demon spawn, regardless of whether he was part Bruce, and Jason found that he greatly enjoyed playing the merciless older brother figure to Dick’s alternative savior version.

Tim… Well, Tim was a work in progress.  Where everyone else was warming up to his presence in steady increments, Jason suspected that Tim was being difficult on purpose.  There had yet to be any real apology and forgiveness between them, and even Damian, totally inept at social nuance as he was, could sense the discomforting tension that floated thick in the air of every room that had the unfortunate luck of housing the two middle children simultaneously.

But Jason was making an effort, and he personally considered it a great feat that he managed to be even remotely civil when faced with the practically glacial attitude of the third Robin.  Not that he could blame Tim; Jason _had_ tried and nearly succeeded in killing him on multiple occasions, but come on.  He didn’t have an insane vendetta anymore!  Forgive and forget, and all that jazz. 

 Jason stepped off the stairs into the white and blue lighting of the computer screens, shooting a glance over to the lit up gym mats where Tim was shifting through some fairly advanced yoga poses, alternating with a few basic stretches.  Ordinarily he’d make fun, but that shit was _hard_ ; he’d learned that the difficult way when Steph had dragged him to her usual session at the nearby gym as a form of bonding for the two of them.  Jason was positive that the only thing that had saved him from being laughed right out of the 102-degree room was the fact that he was attractive, male, and had opted not to wear a shirt.  Moral of the story was, yoga was not for sissies, and Jason would vouch for it with his last dying breath.

 Thankfully, Tim was a focused individual, so he hardly even noted the other vigilante’s presence. Suppressing a relieved sigh—he wasn't a coward, but any chance to avoid the usual stupid arguments was a blessing—Jason stepped down the three stairs into the pit at the center of the monitor system.

 "Hey, Jaybird." Dick's smile warmed his tone, his voice soft and thrown just enough to eliminate the possibility of an echo.  "You're here early." He clicked open another screen before turning around and stretching, arms lifted high above his head, t-shirt rising to reveal a small strip of scarred skin.

 Jason shrugged, leaning a hip against a stand of voice recognition equipment.  "There's only so much sleep I can pretend to have before I get bored of staring at my ceiling." Dick's wry smirk in response was knowing.  A soft noise of irritation drew both of their attentions over to Tim, who pressed himself into a deep hamstring stretch before wincing and pulling back with a frown.  "How long has he been at it?"

 Dick made an interested sound and propped his head on a fist, watching their younger sibling fold himself nearly in half before sliding his leg back and raising his arms into a graceful high lunge.  “Not too long, probably about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.” Dick pushed himself out of the chair, cracking his neck with a sharp jerk of his head to the left.  “He just finished doing slalom training though,” Dick gestured to the cave’s demanding obstacle course that was beginning to look a bit worse for wear.  “Tim was in there for a good hour and a half at the least, no breaks.”

 Now that he was really paying attention, Jason could see that the young man was looking rather beaten up, and he took in the particularly nasty cut along a toned bicep.  The thing about the Batcave's slalom course was that when you hit something, that something tended to hit back.  “Does he always actively try to kill himself, or is this just a phase?”

 Dick chuckled, clapping a hand on the redhead’s shoulder and resting his chin against it with a grin.  “Tim’s default setting is typically pushing himself as close to death as possible, until Alfred demands he take a rest.  Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” Jason’s eyes skimmed over the supple plane of Tim’s stomach stretching from the effort of the fairly strenuous backbend he was performing.  “Anyway, I better get going, or Damian will just leave to go uniform shopping without me.” Dick squeezed his shoulder, and then planted a messy kiss on his cheek, to which Jason pulled a disgusted face and shoved Dick away from him, wiping hastily at the wetness.  “Thanks for filling in at the monitors, Jay baby!”

 “I hope the brat makes your trip miserable!  And you get stuck having to try on a girl’s uniform for his sick amusement!” Jason glared as Dick essentially vaulted up the steps leading to the manor, then grumbled, “Though I bet you’d just enjoy it.” He threw himself inelegantly into the chair and spun it to face the computer screens.

 Jason spent a solid five minutes messing around with various cameras in the manor itself: watching Alfred take Titus out for a walk, laughing as Dick was forced to wrestle Damian into a car so they could go shopping.  He skimmed several notifications from Oracle, queuing them away for later once he’d decided they weren’t urgent.  That took him another ten minutes.  The police line was more or less quiet; a car theft here, a mugging there, nothing that wasn’t taken care of quickly by the GPD.

And so it was twenty minutes into his monitor shift and he was bored out of his skull.  Leaning back, fingers linking behind his head, he swiveled the chair back and forth, wondering if it would be bad form to go upstairs for food and abandon the computers for a while.  When his spinning faced him towards the gym, Jason paused.

Tim had moved on from yoga and begun something that vaguely resembled Tai Chi, but with a more Bat-like flair, i.e. lethal.  His shirt had been abandoned, soaked through from the exertion Tim was putting forth, and Jason took the moment to admire the sight.

His eyes traced the line of corded muscle in toned legs that led up towards a shapely ass, and carried on past firm abs and strong shoulders.  Taking note of the even flush of rouge coloring Tim’s cheeks, something suddenly occurred to Jason.  Tim was very easy on the eyes.  It was probably his one saving grace, and the only thing that stayed Jason’s hand from beating him on a regular basis for his frigid attitude.  Couldn’t mess up the one thing the kid had going for him, after all. 

Jason was comfortable enough to acknowledge the attraction, and now that he was actively looking, he felt it necessary to admit that perhaps he’d been looking for a while and hadn’t even realized it.  Tim wasn’t necessarily handsome, per se, but there was a distinct quality to him that attracted the eye and held it.  Jason would peg him more at pretty, but that felt a bit too facetious, so he settled on simply attractive.  Maybe even alluring.

Whatever it was, it was definitely tempting, and Jason appreciated the display of power as Tim pressed on harder through his workout.  He was intriguing to watch, because Tim had a very distinctive style, a strange mix of acrobatic skill—entirely picked up from Dick, no doubt—and agility that was uniquely his own.  He was aware of his smaller stature and clearly knew how to use it to his advantage.

The kid was good, Jason would give him that much.  He had an excellent grasp on the basics, but it didn’t look Bat-trained.  He recalled Dick mentioning something about how Tim came to them more or less trained in various martial arts, and Dick had actually done most of the refinement—or most of it, if you didn’t take into consideration Shiva’s training.  It was obvious, too.  Dick’s style was very personal, and only suited a rare few.  Tim wasn’t one of them.

He licked his lips, brow furrowing when Tim made a frustrated dip, displeased with his reach in the motion, and Jason wondered if he should help him.  It could be a good opportunity for them to work on their issues, though he doubted Tim would be enthusiastic about his assistance, and for that, he was hesitant.  Still, if Tim could just accept him…

“It’s not going to work if you force it, you know.” Tim’s movements stopped and he shot Jason an irritated glance.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Jason snorted, and fell silent.  His eyelids drooped just slightly as he began to focus more on the rotations Tim was working through. 

The mats were lit up and it gave Tim a glowing quality, emphasized by the sheen of sweat covering his limbs.  Muscles stretched, taut and visible, and the third Robin twisted and dropped in a lunge, the strain on his body clear from the flash of frustration in bright blue eyes.  His hair fell over his face, pieces stuck to his temples from perspiration, and when he winced in pain from a particular shift, Jason suddenly wanted to help even more.

Quietly, he stood, moving with silent steps, though he knew Tim was tracking him across the floor.  Tim turned, his body held in a defensive posture, and Jason halted a few feet away.  “What?”

Holding up his hands, Jason placated, “Nothing, I just. I wanted to help.”

Tim scoffed, pulling up to his full height, which was still several good inches shorter than Jason.  “I don’t need your kind of _help_.”

“I’m not—” Jason cut himself off, sighing.  “I’m trying to make this better here, Tim.  Work with me.”

Tim’s chin lifted defiantly, and they watched each other carefully for a few moments before Tim’s eyes narrowed and he acquiesced with a short, “Talk.”

Jason gritted his teeth, debating whether this was a good idea after all, or if he should just pound the little shit into the ground with his fists right now.  However, the impending wrath of Dick was enough to deter him from the violence, and he moved forward another foot, beckoning with a wave of his hand.  “Get back into your stance.”

Tim fell into the stance like he’d been forced, a stubborn edge suffusing all of his motions.  Jason prayed mentally for patience and began speaking.

“You know what you’re doing, but there are easier ways to do it.” Tim stared at him blandly, unimpressed by the imparted wisdom, and Jason carried on.  “Certain types of movement work better for different people.  Obviously,” he gestured to the slope of Tim’s back, “you picked up most of the detail from Dickie, which would be good if you had his body type, but you don’t.” Tim was stiff when Jason circled around him, inspecting and processing.

“Okay, so you think I’m doing everything wrong.  Thanks.  How is this supposed to help me?” Jason rolled his eyes at the comment and reached out, withholding his snicker when Tim jumped at the touch to the middle of his shoulder blades.

“I didn’t say it was wrong, I said there’s something better.  Here.” With some difficulty, due to Tim’s stubborn rigidity, Jason started to position Tim’s arms and body in slightly different ways.  “Your body type matches more to mine or Bruce’s.”

“Now I _know_ you’re messing with me.” Tim snorted, keeping a shrewd eye on the redhead as he adjusted the teen’s body.  “You have to have at least fifty more pounds of muscle than me.”

Jason smirked at that and nodded, not arguing the point.  “True, you’re a munchkin.” Tim growled. “But that doesn’t mean the body type isn’t the same.  Think about it.  Metrically speaking, you have the same proportions for your size as Bruce and I do for our sizes.” Silence met that theory, and Jason knew he’d won that round.

“So logically, your training should match ours, just at a slightly lower level, to account for the difference in mass.” Tim made a quiet sound of thought, and Jason’s lips spread into an easier smile.  This atmosphere was good, so much better than the usual tension that rang between them.  He stepped back to look at his handiwork, and Tim gazed up at him curiously, his earlier skepticism completely vanished in the face of logical assessment.  “How’s it feel?”

Tim glanced down at himself reflexively, cataloguing the minor changes and noting the lessening of strain on various parts of his body.  “It’s…better.”

Teal eyes narrowed, and Jason tilted his head as he evaluated the brunet.  Tim blinked when Jason stepped behind him, and made to shift away when one of the redhead’s arms came around his chest.  “Hey, don’t skive out on me now.  It’s almost perfect.” Jason waited for Tim to ease back again, and then he braced his hand to the boy’s upper abdomen and pressed with his other into Tim’s lower back.  The action forced Tim’s spine to align, and Jason did his best to ignore the intensity of the heat beneath his fingers emanating from the younger man’s body.

Jason could feel it; the moment when Tim finally sensed the comfort of the new position in contrast to his previous attempts, and Jason had to suppress a shiver when Tim’s body suddenly molded back to him willingly and rested more heavily in his hands.  The feeling slithered through him lusciously as Tim breathed out, “What next?”

Jason lifted his hands back up tentatively, brushing them out over Tim’s shoulders and smoothing his palms down the younger man’s arms until he hooked his hands so Tim’s rested atop his.  “Now,” he used the contact to shift Tim’s arms up higher, and then, with a slight pressure, he guided one into a wide sweep across the front of Tim’s body, slowing the speed significantly from what Tim was practicing earlier.

“We move.”

Jason could feel Tim’s breath leave him in a low gust as the stretch burned, but in a much more desirable manner, one that was tolerable and actually felt good.  Encouraged, Jason brought his leg forward, against Tim’s inner thigh, and pressed the outside of his foot to the inside of Tim’s, sliding their legs forward and then to the side.  Jason’s throat hitched the slightest bit when Tim followed him fluidly and without hesitation.

He shaped himself to Tim’s back, encircling the smaller figure, and began to lead Tim through a series of simple katas, Tim allowing himself to be manipulated all the while.  They skimmed across the mats in graceful motions, Jason’s larger form directing Tim’s where to go.  Tim’s arms twisted together with Jason’s as the man silently taught him the methods that suited him better, the methods that he should have learned from Bruce.

Jason enjoyed the soft sounds of surprise and pleasure as he continued to show Tim more positions that were easier on his body, that could be taken to different levels and then brought back down in ladders of difficulty.  He was happy to find that Tim was a kinetic learner, being able to touch and experience the cues that led into each pose physically making it easier for him to grasp it.

As Tim gradually became more and more in tune with Jason’s movements, Jason found that he guided less and less, and instead began to move in tandem with the younger man.  Their legs would rise and fall in low kicks and wide roundhouses, all at a leisurely pace to train the motions into the body’s discipline, and arms would shift around each other in perfect synchronicity as Jason demonstrated and Tim evolved.

They lifted their arms and dropped into a deep squat, turning on the ball of their feet and then extending one leg as a propeller, and for one surreal moment, Jason broke away and they both rolled backwards over their left shoulders.  But as soon as they came back up into the squat, Tim settled back once more into Jason’s arms and they rose together with a swirl of motion.

Jason lifted their legs, wrapping his arm about Tim’s waist and tipping them sideways.  Tim hissed at the stretch, and Jason’s fingers pressed insistently into the brunet’s hip, tilting them back tightly against him, and Tim sighed as the burn lessened.  When they came back up, Tim’s head fell back gently onto Jason’s shoulder, and the redhead pressed his cheek to the teen’s temple.

His hand splayed across Tim’s stomach, their fingers overlapping, and Jason leaned back to stretch out Tim’s abdominals, then leaned and swung them in a low circle from the hips, his body curling around Tim’s as they reached for the floor and slowly came back up on the other side.

Jason was inwardly disappointed when the approached the end of a rotation, and he prolonged the contact by cupping the back of Tim’s hands and leading them in the drop and raise of a yoga breathing pattern.  Tim exhaled deeply with each motion, his body relaxed almost completely into Jason’s chest, and when a murmur of Jason’s name wisped out with one breath, Jason had to wonder if it had happened.  But then it happened again, more clearly.

"Jason."

 His brow furrowed, the volume of Tim's voice breaking the pleasant atmosphere they had settled into.  "What?"

 "Jason."

 There was pressure on his shoulder, and Jason stiffened at the touch, because Tim hadn't turned around.

"Jason!"

 His shoulder was jerked hard, and Jason's entire body jolted abruptly, eyes snapping up to find Tim's face hovering in front of his, a deep frown of concern dipping at the corners of his mouth.  It took Jason a few seconds to register his surroundings, seated in the computer chair, with Tim, sweaty from his workout, standing before him and saying his name again.  When it finally kicked in, he had to fight off the flush of embarrassment at the fact that he'd been caught completely off guard, because he'd been _daydreaming_ , of all the things.

 And then Tim lifted his hands to tilt Jason's chin back and press his palm to the redhead's forehead, two fingers coming up to feel for the pulse in his neck, completely oblivious to Jason's mental battle.  "You were spaced out and didn't respond when I called your name.  Are you feeling okay?" He brushed back a bit of Jason's white fringe, the ingrained concern for every person's well being momentarily surpassing his tendency to avoid contact, particularly with Jason, in importance.

 Jason couldn't handle it though, his endorphins overwhelming his senses, no thanks to his own imagination, and he slapped Tim's hands away roughly.  Turning away with a pissed off growl, aimed entirely at himself, though Tim was none the wiser, he spat out, "Don't touch me, Replacement."

Tim recoiled, mouth open in disbelief and his anger at the rebuff bleeding into his features.  Hands curling into fists at his side, he snarled back, “God, you are such an asshole!  Why do I even bother?” He whirled on his heel and marched off towards the stairs, snatching up his towel and water bottle as he went.  “Go screw yourself, Jason!”

Jason stubbornly refused to respond until he heard the door shut with a loud slam behind the younger man, and then he fell forward to bury his face in his hands, cheeks erupting into a violent crimson blush.  “Goddamn, what the fuck was that?!”

He rubbed his hand roughly over the stubble on his jaw, stretching the skin on his face with full anxiety.  “What the hell, Todd?” He could feel the heat of his cheeks under his fingertips, and he shut his eyes, only to have them snap back open the next second as his mind chose to supply imagery from his daydream.

 _Never.  Again._   Jason swore once more, unable to control his roiling emotions, and thanking all things holy that there was no one to witness his ridiculous breakdown.  With a loud sigh that was much more heartfelt groan, Jason melted back into his chair, both hands covering his face up to his eyes as he looked desperately around the cave for a distraction.

“Fucking Tim, you little bastard.  I’m never watching you work out again.” 


End file.
